Chapter Text
The first thing Simon notices is that he’s nude again, bar his boxers. His skin prickled against the cold air, his knees aching. He then realised he was kneeling, and looked around. He was back on the station, the one on which he was kept prisoner. Dread surged through him, and he wondered where Jack had gone. Had he given up, given him back? Or was the whole day simply something he made up?
Confused, Simon didn’t realise that another person had walked into the room until a sharp pain radiated across his back, forcing a yell of pain from him.
“Eyes down. Hands on your thighs, palm up. You should know this, Butcher,” Lieutenant Richards hissed, unimpressed, before striking him again. She held a cane between her gloved hands.
Simon fixed his posture, assuming the correct presentation position. The use of the nickname made him angry, but he knew better than to let Richards see any emotion. She walked around him for a moment, seemingly judging him.
He became intensely aware of every part of his body, every ache and pain. Every injury, healing or scarred.
Another sharp blow landed on his bare back, and he repressed the yell into a quiet groan as he twitched.
“You haven’t been serving your new Master very well, have you?” She taunted, landing another sharp blow.
“I’ve done what he’s asked of me, ma’am,” He responded. Several sharp blows fell against his back quickly, and he wasn’t able to smother the yell they forced from his lips.
“Don’t talk back to me, Butcher,” Richards snarled, dragging the cane along the fresh wounds on his back. Simon bit back a hiss, the pain beginning to overwhelm him, tears pricking at the edges of his eyes.
“I don’t underst–” His question was cut off by a strong blow, and he yelped in pain.
“You don’t speak unless spoken to, Eden Scum,” She growled. “Too fucking stupid to follow simple orders,” She said, striking him again, “I shouldn’t be surprised.” Another blow, “I should put you back into training if you can’t do tasks as simple as this.”
Simon was shivering and flinched with a scream as another blow landed. He could hear himself panting, could feel his pulse in his back. A distant pounding came, a set of four, then stopped. He tried to focus on his breathing, on going into his head, trying to block everything else out, but as another strong blow landed, a guttural scream ripped from his throat.
Simon jolted awake, the scream dying in his throat. The pounding started again, startling him. After a few moments, he realised he was in Jack’s quarters, back on the ship. In his room. Richards wasn’t here. She couldn’t hurt him.
“Hello?” Jack asked from the other side of the door, the pounding starting again, “Hey, man, please open the door.”
He glanced at the door, panic flowing through him. He had locked it. Sure, Jack said he could, but now he seemed angry. Would he beat it down if Simon didn’t unlock it? He would rather the door unlocked than no door at all. He stood shakily, using the edge of his bed as support.
“Please, I’m not upset, I just want to know you’re okay.”
Simon’s hand shook as he reached for the lock on the door, turning it and opening the door slowly. Jack was standing on the other side, still in his pyjamas. Simon refused to look at his face, afraid to see the anger there. He stepped aside instead so that Jack could come into the room.
“I don’t want to come in,” Jack said softly, “I just heard you screaming and got concerned.”
“Sorry for waking you, Master,” Simon said just as softly, waiting for the blow to land.
“Hey, look at me?” It wasn’t an order, simply a request, but Simon obeyed, looking into Jack’s eyes. “You aren’t in trouble, I’m not upset.”
As Simon watched Jack’s face, he realised that the only emotions he could see were concern and tiredness. No anger, no fury. He watched Jack glance into the room, see that Simon wasn’t sleeping on the bed, instead in the corner, and frown. Jack didn’t say anything, however, and moved his gaze back to Simon.
“You okay?”
Simon nodded, not wanting to talk about his nightmare right now. And certainly not to Jack, who he was still expecting to turn on him at any moment.
“Okay. You know where I am. I’m glad you locked the door,” Jack said before turning and heading back to his room.
Simon stood there, confused. He could still feel the phantom pain in his back, despite knowing the wounds he was expecting weren’t there. Still tired and groggy from just having woken up, Simon honestly couldn’t be bothered thinking too much about anything right now. While still slightly sceptical of the situation, Simon simply shut the door, locked in, and walked back around the bed to his blanket nook. He snuggled his way back under the quilt and tried to go back to sleep.
—
When Simon woke again, it was to the noise of someone patting around the living room. He realises he’s overslept, and a jolt of anxiety washes through him as he throws the blanket aside and rushes out of the room.
Jack was looking about as awake as Simon felt, going about making himself coffee.
“Please, let me, Master,” Simon said softly as he walked into the kitchen.
Jack turned suddenly, like he wasn’t expecting Simon to be awake. He put the small container of water down and backs away to let Simon take over.
“You can call me ‘Jack’,” He said.
Simon filled the container to the line on the side, “How do you like your coffee…” Simon trailed off, testing the waters. He wasn’t comfortable calling Jack by his name, but if he insisted, he could try to drop the title. It felt wrong, Simon’s lips moving to make the word, but Jack was smiling at him, so he didn’t let any sound come out.
“Small bit of milk, teaspoon of sugar please,” Jack said, leaning against the other bench as he watched Simon work.
Despite Simon's unease at being watched, he could feel that Jack’s gaze wasn’t judgmental; he was simply observing. Waiting to assist if needed, maybe. Thankfully, Simon had worked with this type of coffee machine before, and set it up to brew the water into the mug Jack had already placed under it.
“Ava’s dropping by in a bit,” Jack says casually, voice still waking up, “Says she has something for you.”
Simon walks to the fridge, grabs the milk out, and Jack waits until Simon turns back around to reach up to open a cupboard, grabbing the sugar and putting it on the bench.
“I leave for work at 8:45,” Jack continues, “And get back around 5:10.”
Simon carefully measures out the sugar, making sure to mix it well, and pours the milk in slowly, until the coffee turns the colour he wants.
“Your coffee,” Simon said, with his entire body begging him to say the final word. He handed Jack the mug of coffee carefully.
“Thank you,” Jack said, taking the mug equally as carefully. He takes a small sip, “Oh, this is perfect.”
Pride warmed Simon’s chest, but he knew to keep a neutral expression, so he simply nodded. Thankfully, at that moment, there was a knock at their door.
“That must be Ava,” Jack says, going to grab the door, but Simon quickly went to grab it instead.
As he opened the door, Simon lowered himself to kneel beside it. He watches the floor as Ava enters, stopping for a moment and looking down at him.
“I’ve been trying to tell him he doesn’t need to do that,” Jack says.
“It’s okay,” Ava says, “Likely what he’s been trained to do.” Simon sees her crouch down to meet him, “Hey there,” She said, trying to get his attention, “You can look at me, it’s okay.”
Simon raised his head, still not looking into her eyes.
“How are you settling in so far?”
“Good, ma’am,” Simon replied softly, “Ma–” Simon cut himself off, swallowed thickly, “Jack has been a good host.”
Simon almost wishes he hadn’t seen Jack’s face when Simon said his name. It lit up, a smile stretching across his face. It almost quelled the anxiety and discomfort in Simon’s chest at it.
Ava was smiling as well, “You can call me Ava, too. Shall we sit in the lounge?”
She stands, waits for Simon to stand with her, and they all make their way to the lounge. There was only space on the couch for 2 people, and Simon would’ve sat on the floor anyway, but it was nice to not need an excuse, to feel like it wasn’t because he was simply lesser than. He sits, cross-legged like he had the night before, his hips protesting at the unusual angle.
“Okay!” Ava said, “I have some things for you, but only if you want to accept them,” She said, looking at Simon. He found it strange, how these two kept addressing him directly, looking at him while they spoke.
Simon nodded.
“First; Jack, I found the thing you asked for,” She said, turning to him.
“You found his name?” Jack asked, rearranging himself, leaning forward.
Ava nodded, “But only if you want to know it,” She said, turning back to Simon, “We can give you another name, one you can choose.”
Simon stared at her, wide-eyed. His name? They found it? He didn’t even know how on earth he’d forgotten it in the first place. His mother gave him that name, and he felt ashamed for letting the COI take it from him.
“I’d like to know, please,” Simon said softly.
“Okay,” Ava nodded, her gaze soft, “According to our system, your name was Simon Reed.”
“Simon?” Simon said, testing the feeling in his mouth. It felt right, brought back memories of home. Home on Mars, home on Eden. Memories of his mother, his life before all of this.
“The other thing,” Ava said, not letting Simon wrap his head around that life-changing information, “Is this,” She says, holding out a medium tablet to Simon.
Refusing to keep her waiting, Simon shook himself out of his stupor and took it from her.
“It’s a holotablet,” She explained, “I’ve loaded it with a bunch of information on agriculture. Plants, trees. Thought it might be of interest to you, keep you busy while Jack is at work. If it’s not, and you’d rather another topic, just let Jack know and I’ll sort it out.”
Plants. The Last Tree. Eden. These people, they were too kind to him. They should despise him, hate his guts for what he’d done, and instead they give him kindness and gifts, reassurance and comfort.
Simon couldn’t help the tears falling this time.
Jack rushed to him, going to touch him before retracting his hands, “Hey, Simon, it’s okay, you’re okay.”
Hearing his name again simply made Simon sob. It was too much. He hadn’t been cared like this since he was a child.
“Can I touch your hair?” Jack asks.
Simon nods, and leans into the gentle touch of Jack’s hand carding through his hair. They sat there for a moment, quiet, without any pressure. Eventually, Simon felt like he could speak again, “Thank you,” He whispered.
Ava smiles at him again, wider this time, but the scars on the side of her face pulled at it so it looked more like a smirk. Simon thought she was beautiful.
“I’ve got to get this one to work,” She said, poking at Jack playfully with a closed fist.
Jack looked up at her, nodding, and returned to Simon, “Take it easy today, okay? If you really feel like you need to, the vacuum is in the laundry. But seriously, I won’t be upset if you sit around all day and do nothing but read.”
Simon wasn’t sure how much he believed him, but he nodded nonetheless, mourning the warm touch of Jack’s hand as he stood and followed Ava out the door, turning one last time to look at Simon before leaving.
Finally alone, Simon broke down in tears again, thinking about his mum. Finally remembering his name, being reunited with her sheath, he felt closer to her than he had in over 20 years. Since before the Quiet Rapture, when he watched Mars disappear right in front of his eyes, realising she was still there, disappearing alongside it.
It had taken him months to finally come to terms with it all. Maybe, he thought, maybe he could heal from this, too.
For her.